The Dark of You
by luisa.vang
Summary: Stockholm, 1840: Caught between centuries of memories, deep ache, international conflicts and shattered hope, Lukas struggles to find a way to regain peace, strenght and find forgiveness in the union he had wished for but not achieved in the way he wanted. Because he had loved the Swede, that was just like the Ocean, but he could never be sure that this was enough.
1. Moonlight

Never enough

Christiania, April 1840

The light of the moon shone through the windows of Akershus castle and Lukas wondered if it would ever change. It reflected itself in those plates that were placed on his desk, silvery and cold and cruel. The light of the lamp, the little fire he used to keep alive during every one of those long nights was weak against those rays of silver. Behind the thin window that was not able to keep the warmth inside of his room, was a wonderful night.  
Or at least the humans would call this night beautiful with its clear and deep night, with the stars shimmering on the dark blanket and the full moon kissing the earth below.  
Christiania was quiet and so was the nation it belonged to, silent and calm. Well, this calmness was nothing more than a lie – his whole life was a lie and he wondered how he ended up like that. How had he ended up in those walls? How and why did this castle not feel like home? Why did it still not feel like home? Why couldn't he be happy? Was it his fault or Berwalds' because he was so awfully good to him?

Lukas did not enjoy being bound, he did not enjoy this union – not in contrast to their first one at least. Back then when the Swede had helped him to gain strength again, back then when he literally saved him from breaking apart by the endless civil war. This union, this long-gone union of their medieval times, had filled his heart with a wholeness that had never been the same. It had been a short period of time and it had been set in the most gruesome and dark days humanity had ever seen. Despite the fact that the Norwegian had hated the fourteenth century with all its plagues and all the pain he had felt, the suffering of his people, the final loss of every fiber of strength in his already weakened body, being together with Berwald in their youthness had been the medicine he needed. He had loved him. Maybe, just maybe he still did. And maybe he hated the crystal clear night with its stunning lights because every night that had been meaningful in their whole relationship had been as perfect as the one today was. It was breaking his heart, looking out of the window, it was breaking what was left of his bruised, shattered soul and still he could not stop himself from watching it from the windowsill. The memories were as beautiful as they were sorrowful – it was cruel that they weren't only immortal beings but also forced to never forget. He would never forget anything.

Maybe, no, not maybe but for certain, he had always loved the sea and the wind like he had loved the both of them. Not that it had been the right thing, not that it had been moral or good or anything like that – his heart had always been kind of corrupt – but he had not been able to stop himself. More often than not he wondered why any of them had and should have been in love with a creature like him. Lukas was like water, he was not able to be fetched, he was too free to bind himself to one of them and he was like poisonous water too. For many decades he had thought about when he had changed from being a brother and a healer to something like a twisted lover and a venom. His eyes fell from the nightsky to his bare hands and he clotted them to fists until his fingernails cut into the soft flesh of his palm. It was his fault that their bonds were so shattered – if they had not fallen in love with him they had not been that cruel to one another. And if he had chosen one of them, maybe they would not have been in uncountable wars…Alright, they still would have. Because above everything, above their love for their people, for their folks and above the love for one of their kind, stood the love for might. They were nations after all, it did not matter if they were humans too. He had experienced this love for might and how this poison was even more venomous than the one of his love.

Might was cruel, it twisted them, it turned them into different beings without them noticing anything at all. He uncoiled his fists again, inspecting the red half moon shaped marks that had appeared on his hands. His palms were pale, his wrists were frail and as light as they were, he could still see so many scars on them. His gaze shifted to the silver plate that still held one or two letters he had yet to read and his glance caught the reflection of his face on the surface. Quickly those dark blue orbs turned away and flew up again to the shimmering stars that drew him in. He did not want to see his reflection, he could not stand it. Lukas could not remember when he had lastly gazed into a mirror or anything that would reflect his appearance without feeling disgust. It did not matter that he was more free now than he had been under Mathias who was to blame for the scars around his wrists and the prominent scar on his neck that had been caused by a deep bite and that held the shape of the Demilune. Being free while being bound was better than being locked in, but he was still not independent. And, what was even worse and what was the main reason why he ignored Berwald for the most time even though his heart yearned for the tall and stoic man, he was without his brother.

Emil had always been the light of his life, from the day he had found him up there in the north, hiding between rocks. He had been his reason to become calmer, less violent and at the same time had awoken a strong wish to keep this child safe at all costs. The Icelandic boy meant the world for him. Lukas had always cared so much for him, had always given everything to raise him up right – no matter if he had been independent or in a union. He had given him the portions of food that were meant for the Norwegian, he had carried on when the days had turned shorter and the nights turned grey. He had protected him from the darkness that had filled their home as the tone between their elders during the Kalmar Union had roughened, he had done all he could to keep the image of Mathias perfectly clean in the wonderful lilac eyes of his little light. But he had not been honest, he never had. Not even for Emil but how could he have? He couldn't tell him the truth – he couldn't tell him about anything Mathias had done. Certainly, Emil had seen much more than Lukas had wished for, the child was not blind and he had sensed the shadows, sensed the danger, even without seeing all those bruises, even without witnessing any of the horrendous scenes. Lukas just wished that he had believed his lies – except for one – the last one for it had not been one that he had told willingly – he had not chosen to be with Berwald despite him still loving the Swede even with centuries of not being in touch with him for more than a day or two or occasionally seeing each other on the battlefield. No, he would never choose anyone over Emil and never, never…

Since the beginning of their union, since the parting with Mathias and Emil, Lukas had struggeled not to cry. He had cried far too much during the last centuries and if he was to show Berwald that he was strong enough to be at least as autonomous as possible, he was not allowed to share a tear. The medieval ages were over, they had begun to start in a new era, an era with so many possibilities. And there was enough to distract him from the pain in his chest, right? His room was full of bookshelves, he had a big garden to work in, he had a parliament that needed his help. And still, this letters on this god damned plate would not allow him to distract his yearning heart. Except for some visits in Stockholm, mostly to get the law drafts to the Swedish king, he had not seen Berwald that much. But Berwald wrote him much more than he should. Those were busy times, even though there was not as much war as in the centuries before, busy times for nations like Sweden. Maybe Oskar was happy that the Norwegians were autonomy and that he was not forced to make his way to Christiania or pay soldiers to keep the resistance down. Although Lukas barely wrote back, Berwald, unlike the Dane, would not stop trying. And it was not that he just send those letters that were too sweet to not read them and too pure for some awful wrack like him, he also send him gifts and not only a few. Lukas tried to ignore it, tried to keep his guilt on a low level whenever he read those words – Berwald was not good at talking but he was good at writing. It did not work. Not at all.

Lifting the light of the lamp with one hand and opening the letter with the other one, Lukas shifted in his position, finally turned away from the window and slid off the sill. The letter was lighter than the little lamp and still it carried a bigger weight. With a few steps the Norwegian got to the bed that was far too huge for one person – he had shared it with Emil back then when it had been just the both of them – and placed the lamp on the light table. Being out of the reach of the silver rays, he felt lighter, less sad, less shattered, less caught by his memories. Those rays were even worse than bars in his opinion – without them he was free and had at least the illusion of enough strength to really carry on. To maybe forgive them, to forgive himself – to heal.  
Slowly he pulled his knees up to his chest and unfolded the letter. The sheet of paper was filled by the small, untidy writing of his elder – Lukas knew that he already tried his best to write tidy but just Berwald just seemed unable to produce something elegant. He wouldn't judge him though – it was already too much that he took his time to write him instead of letting anyone inform him. They were partners in this union, mostly equal, but Berwald still held more power in his hands than he did, and Stockholm was still the centre of their union…Why did he spent so much time on him? All those thoughts just would not keep quiet, even as he begun to read.

_Beloved, _(how he hated it that he called him that)  
_  
I hope things are going well in Christiania. Stockholm is unusually quiet these days, except from some turmoil because of the sound dues – you know Kohler, he still holds on to those stupid tolls and is disturbing the peace we have. I also highly doubt that he knows that you stay in Christiania, the letters are piling up here and I am honest, I must restrain myself from burning them. They are yours after all, so tell me what I shall do with them. I am also terribly sorry that not a single letter of your brother arrived. But Mathias has agreed to let him visit in a couple of weeks and I hope that this will ease your pain at least a little. You know that I am sorry and that I won't ask for your forgiveness, but I still can't sleep knowing that I failed you like I failed Tino. Like I failed everyone, and I know, I deserve to suffer. But I couldn't be without you. It's selfish, it is, and I won't deny that it is, but for what should I lie?_

_It's like the storm inside of me won't calm down, it is disturbing every single emotion I feel. And despite not sleeping, I would not want to have it any other way. You are what I have wished for, but I have sworn to not force you and I have broken this swore. You are too light to be caught and I know that you don't believe that I am found of your strength but all I wish for is for you to heal. There is not a higher cause than keeping you safe, than letting you regain the strength you once had. I know that you are a warrior and I love you for that strength. The gods know that I have never stopped loving you, even if you deny that you are being loveable.  
If you could see yourself like I see you for just a single moment, you would understand that there can never be enough words to describe just how perfect you are, despite being broken. _

_I shall also inform you, that Oskar hopes to have you accompany us for his sons' birthday – Karl demands it but you know that I won't let them have their way with you without your consent.  
And I am sure that my storm will calm, even if it's just for a short while, if I am allowed to see you again._

_Yours,  
Berwald.__  
_


	2. Sleepless Nights

Stockholm, 12th April 1940

Berwald couldn't sleep and this wasn't the first night in which he was restless, tossing himself from one side to the other until his straight hair was all knotted and chaotic. His head wouldn't stop drowning itself in a sea of thoughts, his heart wouldn't stop pounding on a far too quick path, the anxiety wouldn't allow him to close his sea green eyes. He had not heard from anyone except an angry Arthur and a very distressed Mathias for weeks now and he just could not quiet his worries. That Tino was not allowed to write him, hurt him more than it should. The pure boy was strong, but was he strong enough to stand through the Zar's rule? The failure, the loss of the one that had been with him for so long, a nation that he had tried to raise up without keeping him down, had pushed him into a deep hole. And he knew that Lukas believed that he had just taken him in to fill the whole the Finn had left in his heart, but this was not true at all. Maybe Karl had demanded that Norway would become a part of this union, that it should take the place of Finland with its wood environment and the taxes that had to be paid, but not Berwald. He had even let him move back in that old castle that was far too broken for anyone to live in, he had offered him to repair the broken parts, just like he had offered – and failed, of course – to heal him. It did not surprise him that Lukas ignored him although he could not deny that he felt repelled by him. Although he could not deny that it deeply hurt him to have him in reach but never by his side. Lukas was angry at him, it was his right to be angry but…hadn't he tried to do everything for him? Hadn't he always want the best for the one he loved the most?  
Lukas deserved so much more than being weak and broken and sunken in his sorrow – Berwald was aware that even the Norwegian had his flaws, but it was hard seeing them. He had abandoned the hurtful memories as much as he could, he had abandoned the several times that Lukas had pushed him away, the times he had ignored him, and he had forgiven him that he had been with Mathias – he had not even blame him for loving them both, even though it had torn his heart apart. Even though he had never understood why he had stayed with Mathias – he still did not. In contrast to Mathias, Berwald knew that Lukas could not choose and that it had not been Mathias' influence in any way – Lukas was not weak minded, even with a body that was scarred and broken, abused in every way. No, in Berwalds' eyes that weren't all that clouded anymore for he loved him more deeply than anyone had ever loved anyone, Lukas was still a fighter, a warrior that needed to regain his strength. It was not possible to put into words how much he hoped that they could forgive one another. For he remembered the days in their first union, he remembered everything, every single touch, every single word. They never spoke much but what they said to each other always bared so much meaning, so much love. Yes, Berwald had loved him since their Viking days and he loved him for all he was – for the connection to the nature that surrounded him, for his eyes that represented a night like todays, perfectly clear, deep blue instead of black, filled with silvery light. He loved him for the expression in his eyes whenever he had looked at his brother, the innocent love that warmed the night, he loved him for his soul that could never be broken. Gods, he could never describe everything for it would take hours and hours and he just wanted the both to love each other as pure as they had been once.

But time was cruel, and it was flowing so quick, the moments were long gone, and they had lost every single bit of their innocence. They had lost it in long and lustful night that were driven more by power and might than by love, they had lost it in battles that left them bloody and broken, they had lost it in arguments, in atrocities that they committed. Berwald knew that they could never turn back, but he liked to let himself be lost in those dreams for they were the only things that could calm his soul in moments like these. After all, the Swede would not lose his hopes. He had always been stubborn, just like all of them were, a personality treat that they had inherit from Scandinavia. And after all, Lukas was the one that had told him that maybe they weren't able to forget, but they were able to forgive. How else could they go on? How else could they still be family, the five of them? Mathias was maybe the worst brother there had ever been but he was still his brother and Berwald knew that one day, they would be fine again. What were they without hope? Nothing and nothing at all. And Lukas would learn to forgive him, just like he learned to forgive Mathias who had, and Berwald was very certain of that even without Lukas telling him everything, committed more than one crime against the Norwegian.

With a small sigh the Swede got up from his bed – he knew he would not be able to sleep anyways, so why shouldn't he try and be useful? Although he was a bit wavy on his legs, he made his way out of his bedroom and stepped into the hallway when he heard the crackling sound of a door opening. Berwald supressed a yawn and raised an eyebrow – it was in the middle of the night, why should anyone except for the occasional guards that roamed through the castle? It did not surprise him too much though to see a little figure with long blonde hair that seemed to take notice that apparently their nation was awake too. For a second she seemed to be unsure whether to go on to wherever she wanted to head in her sleeplessness or to approach the tall man. She was used to his presence and Berwald knew the princess too for she appeared always kind of lost between her many brothers. Eugenie took a few steps closer to the nation and smiled this typical shy smile of her. "Sverige.", she said, nearly inaudible, as if she was afraid that somebody would hear them. "Princess, you should be in bed.", he said as he quivered down on her height, so she wouldn't hurt her neck by looking up at him. The princess of Sweden and Norway was a quiet, shy and attentive though she also had this stubbornness that the world would deem typical Scandinavian. The girl just nodded before raising her small but bright voice again. "I am apologising for my rudeness to ask, but…could I accompany you?" Berwald raised one of his blonde eyebrows again – it was not rude and not too unusual that the royal children spend some time with him – that was if he had any time at all. He knew the princess already and he was in good terms with their father, Oskar, so why shouldn't the child sit in his working room – maybe the boring room would get her tired again. "Come.", he just said before he turned around on his heels and walked over to the room he had wanted to head to.

Eugenie took place beside the fireplace on one of the chairs and swung her legs back and forward. She was the only girl among five children and their strict father did not allow her to be in contact with other girls in her age. Of course, her brothers did not really see her as one of them and she was more alone than with anyone. Like so often when Berwald actually lived with the royal family, he had one or two favourites among the children and the quiet girl reminded him a bit of Emil – maybe this was the reason why he liked her company. While the Swede was busy with writing an answer to another angry letter of England, that always greedy bastard, the princess watched the night sky behind the window with some interruptions in which she glanced over to him. Most likely she knew that Berwald had not slept in what felt like ages, but of course she was too polite to ask directly even though she was interested in whatever burdened him. Eugenie was a friendly and considerate being, she cared for others more than she cared for herself and she always wished to help anyone that had a problem. It saddened her that her hands were bound more often than not, and she knew that all she could do was to listen.  
"Sverige?", she suddenly stood up and walked over to sit in front of him. Berwald tilded his head to the side and raised his seagreen eyes. "Ja?"  
"What burdens you?", she managed to ask while glancing towards the window again.  
"Too much.", he placed his signet under the letter, folded the piece of paper and put it aside. "Father has told me about Norge and that you are worried about him.", well her father had not really told her, she had just overheard some things but even so, she was very aware that their nation truly wasn't the only one out there. And that Berwald seemed turmoiled was easy to see because he hadn't sleep in nearly two weeks and his stoic masquerade was still up, but fading nevertheless.  
Berwald nearly had lost the hold on his writing feather but could hold on to it in time.  
"You don't have to explain.", she quickly said, realising that she had just troubled him more. "I…I know that it is presumptuous of me, but…", Eugenie stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and tried a small, shy smile. "I think you all should get together. You are wise, you will find a way to work it out.", she ended and her gaze shifted from the tall man to the piano in the corner of the room. "There is this new singer in town, my governess told me about her. Her name is Johanna, Johanna Lind. They say her voice touches the soul and father wants her to sing at Karl's birthday. Maybe invite them for a concert?", she, out of nervousness and the fear to have said something wrong or even hurt Berwald's feelings even more, had begun to braid her light hair. But the nation did not scold her – why should he, what she said had been very forward for a ten year old girl and maybe she was right and he should try and bring all three of them together. After all, Oskar had stressed that it was very important for him to get on good terms with Mathias. And he wanted Lukas at his side, he wanted him to finally feel safe…He knew that things would and could be worked out.  
"You are smart, Princess Eugenie.", he complimented her, dismissing the second letter and slowly stood up again to get one of the books from the bookshelves. He quickly looked through the books and got one of his favourite fairytale, Lukas had send him the little booklet sixty or seventy years ago. "I will lend you this one if you want to. It has always helped me to fall asleep." Eugenie took the small book into her hands and her smile became brighter. "He is nice, isn't he?", she asked before she stepped back. "Be a good girl now and try to sleep.", he advertised her before opening the door for her and watched her leave. "Goodnight.", she whispered before she was out of sight.

Berwald stepped away from the door and picked up some more wood to kindle the dying fire in the chimney. The fire lighted up, consumed the timber with crackling sounds. The shadows that it casted against the back of the wall were trembling and quivering, and he could barely turn his head away. The settle was far too cosy, the warmth that radiated from the flames was slumberous and mesmerizing and he couldn't stop watching the figures that the shadows formed in front of his tired eyes. His mind was still prepossessed by worries and plans but the slumber that was creeping in lulled him and pulled him back to the tales of their youth. The shadows morphed into swords and axes, helmets and warriors and he could have sworn that he heard Scandinavias's hushing voice. She sounded a bit scolding like she always had when her boys had not been willing to go to bed – Mathias and he had not been easy children after all, especially when the both of them were together, always little troublemakers. But all in all her voice was still gentle, deep and warm and he knew why he had loved to listen to Lukas back then when everything was well – he had inherit so much from her…And by the gods, he was thankful for every story that could finally bring him sleep. He laid his head back – he had always been a bit too huge for backrest and it was tough to find any good position but the Swede knew that he was too weak to stand up and so he accepted the backpains in the morning and finally allowed the darkness to take over.


End file.
